


Villa Rustica

by nztina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Ancient Rome, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nztina/pseuds/nztina
Summary: He was the son of thepaterfamilias.She was a slave.Can I make it any more obvious?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65
Collections: Dramione Valentine Exchange





	Villa Rustica

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PacificRimbaud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacificRimbaud/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneValentineExchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneValentineExchange) collection. 



> When I saw that I was gifting this work to the one and only Pacific Rimbaud, I wanted to cry, because how the **** am I supposed to do that? Pacific Rimbaud? One of the queens of the fandom? The pressure was very high, and I spent a month writing a story set in 17th Cent. England.
> 
> Then, a day before the deadline, I decided that it was complete crap so I wrote this instead. 
> 
> P.R., I hope you like this story. It's set in the Ancient Roman Empire (I thought I'd put my degree to good use, as I literally have not done anything with it since graduation.) Happy Valentine's Day!

_“She is Greek, is she not?”_

_“Who?”_

_“The girl that Andromeda chose. The one in the red dress.”_

_“What does it matter where she is from? She is here to teach young Theódoros, not to regale you with tales of her homeland.”_

_“Should we not take an interest in the servants who live in our house, Father?”_

_“Slaves, Draco. They are slaves, and no, we should not. They do not live here, they are not people. They are property. They are objects. Furniture. The faster you get this into that deluded head of yours, the better.”_

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Draco spent too much time watching her. He knew that it was dangerous, especially when his father was at the villa, but he could not help himself. She had come to live here over a year ago and seemed to grow in beauty every day.

There was something about her. 

Even Theó was mesmerised by his new tutor. The young boy never stopped talking about how kind she was; how patient she was; how she never raised her voice at him.

It was quiet here at the villa, and Draco appreciated that he could spend his time freely without his father’s spies studying his every move. Sometimes, Hermione took Theó out into the atrium to study plants, and it was always the perfect opportunity for Draco to bump into her. 

He knew it was most likely a fruitless endeavour. 

But he had to try.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

_“Sorry, I did not intend to frighten you.”_

_“You did not. It is I who must apologise, Dominus.”_

_“No, the Dominus is my father. I am just Draco.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“You may call me Draco. If you want.”_

_“Alright.”_

_“How old are you?”_

_“Sixteen.”_

_“I am sixteen! What a coincidence. And…what is your name?”_

_“I am a slave. I do not—”_

_“You had a name before you were a slave, no?”_

_“I did.”_

_“Then what is it?”_

_“Hermione. My name is Hermione.”_

  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

  
“Why do you keep bothering me?” Hermione asked, her eyes not straying from the scroll laid in front of her. Draco heard the steady scratching of her reed pen against the parchment falter as he came up behind her, his fingers tracing the line of her neck. She sighed, tilting her head. “Draco—”

“You were put on this earth to be bothered by me,” he whispered, dropping kisses to the side of her throat. Hermione sat still, allowing him to work his lips against her skin until he pushed the strap of her dress from her shoulder. She stiffened, standing. 

“I am busy,” she murmured, rolling the parchment and tying it with a leather cord. Draco watched her fingers tremble as she fumbled with the knot. “Your cousin is far too clever. I must create new lessons for him.”

“Why did you not visit me last night? Did you receive my note?”She did not respond, choosing instead to create distance between them as she walked to nearby shelving. 

“Hermione—”

She dropped the scroll into a box. “I am a slave, Draco. You have forgotten it, I think, but I am a slave and this is wrong.”

He frowned, closing the gap.

“Hermione, we have discussed this. You live in the main villa of the Malfoi _latifundium_. You are from the East.”

“I am still a slave.”

“You are a _tutor_ , responsible for the education of my cousin. It is safe here. It is not the same as being out in the mines—”

“But,” Hermione turned to face him, and Draco grimaced to see tears in her eyes, “I am not free. I am the property of your family. Your father’s property, Draco. I have no rights; no choices. My life is worth nothing.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It is the truth. This,” she gestured between them, “secret is dangerous. Your family-your father…” She trailed off, wincing as they both remembered Lucius beating the slave who looked at his wife for a second too long. 

“My father does not matter in this library. It is only us here.” He stepped into her space, crowding her with his palms pressed against the shelves on either side of her head. 

“Last week, a slave girl was killed by your aunt for spilling wine. Do you remember what happened?

He bowed his head.

“Nothing.”

“Correct,” she said. “Nothing. _Nothing_ happened because Bellatrix was within her rights to kill her slave.”

“That will not happen here,” Draco’s voice shook with vehemence. “I promise.”

Hermione shook her head. “Do not make such promises, Draco. Do not make impossible promises.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

  
_“Would you like something? Perhaps a scroll I can find? Or some translation you would like for me to do?”_

_“No.”_

_“I—then…?”_

_“I like to see you reading these documents. Not a person in this house aside from you and I have ever shown interest in such papers.”_

_“They are very detailed. Actually, before this…”_

_“Yes?”_

_"My father taught me. We were not wealthy, but my father had a library. Very small, of course, but he taught me all he knew in that library.”_

_"His lessons saved you. Were it not for your extensive knowledge—”_

_“I know.”_

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

  
She never planned to fall in love with him. 

But she did fall, and by the time she realised it…

It was too late. 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

  
_“I do not understand you, Draco. What is it that you want from me?”_

_“Nothing you do not give freely, Hermione. I have never forced myself upon you.”_

_“But you have every right to—”_

_“It is my father’s way…to abuse his slaves.”_

_“Draco—”_

_“I am not my father.”_

_“What, then? What is this?”_

_“Do you know what makes me happy?”_

_“Draco, please—”_

_“It makes me happy to hear you talk passionately about the stars, and about philosophy. Your eyes light up like there is a flame within them, burning brightly. It makes me so happy to see you like that. Unburdened.”_

_“What are you saying?”_

_“I care for you.”_

_“I am a slave.”_

_“And a human being, Hermione. You are a human being.”_

_“It baffles me that you think like this. How are your beliefs so tangential to your father’s?”_

_“I was like him, once. I was cruel and callous until my aunt came here, when Theó was a baby. She taught me. She saw the possibility for change.”_

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  


When the family stayed in the countryside, Narcissa would send for Hermione to do her hair. Hermione tamed her own curly hair into thick plaits and buns, and the women of the house often repurposed her as their hairdresser when they needed it. In the city, Roman women had special slaves to do such work, but the _latifundium_ was a different matter. Aside from Draco, Andromeda and Theó, the majority of the Malfoi _domus_ —including the bulk of their slaves—lived in the city for extended periods of time; returning to the countryside only when the heat was unbearable. 

After all, Lucius Malfoi liked to keep an eye on his _clientes_. 

The only household slaves who remained permanently in the main villa were Hermione, the cook, and several cleaners. She did not mind it, for Andromeda ran the household and she was a good woman. 

Hermione stood behind Narcissa, silently weaving locks of the woman’s silvery hair into intricate braids. Andromeda was sitting nearby, inspecting a parchment with a deep frown on her face.

“Are you certain that Draco wants it, Cissa?" she asked, sounding concerned. "I have never heard him speak of Astoria."

"He will be informed as soon as the documents are drawn up."

“Should he not be consulted in these matters?”

“He has no choice. Lucius has made an accord with Astoria’s father. They will wed in three years, when she is of age.”

Hermione felt her heart drop to her stomach, but she continued to plait her _Domina_ ’s hair, expressionless. 

She was a slave, after all.

_*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*_

_“May I ask you a question, Draco?”_

_“Of course.”_

_“Where are Theó’s parents?”_

_“Gone. He is an orphan. Andromeda is his ward until he reaches maturity.”_

_“It was kind of your father to take them into his house.”_

_“It was uncharacteristically kind. In fact, I rather suspect he was forced into it by my mother.”_

_“Theó says that he is not allowed to speak of his parents, or his grandfather. He told me he was forbidden. Why is that?”_

_“That is Father’s doing. They were…”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Different, Hermione.”_

_“How so?”_

_“My aunt and her family believed in a world where slavery was no longer legal.”_

_“How is that possible—”_

_“They all died for it. Uncle Theódoros was murdered in the street. Nymphadora and her husband, Remus, were killed in the fire that razed their home to the ground. Luckily, the baby was with Andromeda that night. He had teething problems and his mother needed a night's respite.”_

_“He would have died if he was with his parents.”_

_"Our family bury our dead, Hermione, but we had to bury ash instead of bodies.”_

_“I am so sorry.”_

_“Officially, it was an accident, but everyone in the city knows that it was a warning to all who pursue such beliefs.”_

_“Does she still believe it? Your aunt?”_

_“She does.”_

_“How can you tell?”_

_“She is a very educated woman. She could have tutored her grandson by herself. She chose you to save you, Hermione.”_

  
  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

  
It was quiet in the near-empty villa, and Hermione could hear Draco’s gasps echo against the walls as he drove himself into her, thrusting over and over. She let herself be consumed entirely, her thighs weakly cradling his body between them. 

“Hermione,” he repeated, the same way he did every time they were alone like this. She was the same, whispering his name against his skin at every chance they could take. The library and this bedroom were the only places they could be Hermione and Draco instead of master and slave. “Gods above, Hermione, I love you so much.”

She studied the intricately carved ceiling, tears dripping down the sides of her face into her hair. These stolen nights were more precious to her than anything, but every time she came to his room in the middle of the night, she knew that each time together could be their last. They had not met like this for months and she had missed the weight of his body; the taste of his skin. It was not enough to distract her, though. Four years of clandestine meetings, and worry always overtook her mind.

_Worry for him._

_Worry for herself._

_Worry for their future._

He loved her, but what good was his love when they were doomed like this? 

What good _her_ love when, one day soon, she would have to watch him marry a suitable woman?

Suddenly, Draco shifted to sit upright, pulling Hermione with him. Her chest pressed against his as he cradled her in his lap, rocking up into her. He dropped his head to place soft, reverent kisses against her breasts, his tongue darting out to lick at them. When he gently teased her left nipple between his teeth, Hermione’s logic fell away to delirium and she moaned, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back. She forgot the troubles plaguing her mind.

“I love you,” she gasped, feeling his movements quicken with her words. “I love you, too.”

“Hermione, I won’t last—”

“I’m close, too.”

“Good.”

“Wait, Draco, not inside,” she suddenly remembered to remind him, the haze clearing for a moment. “Don’t—”

“I know,” he breathed, lifting his head to brush his mouth against hers. “I know. No babies.”

The word stung, and she buried her nose into Draco neck so he wouldn’t see the pain on her face. She could not risk falling pregnant, but the idea of a life with Draco—of a family with him, was a constant taunt.

A dream just out of reach.

She let fresh tears leak down her cheeks and then, Draco was gently pulling her away from his shoulder. He studied her face as they moved in tandem, worry shadowing his eyes. 

“Are you alright?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes.”

“You are crying.” Draco held onto her hips, stilling her. “Shall we stop? Should I stop?”

She shook her head and pushed him until he was laying back against the bed. Placing both hands against his chest, she smiled. He was so beautiful like this, unburdened by duty. Moonlight cast shadows against the planes of his cheekbones.

“Tears are not always shed in sadness,” she said, hoping he could not see through her lie. He watched her ride him, and when she crested and collapsed, he caught her in his arms. 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

  
_“Do you have…a wish, Hermione? A dream?”_

_“A dream?”_

_“Something you long to do in your life, or some grand aspiration?”_

_“I suppose I do.”_

_“Tell me?”_

_“Tell me your dreams first.”_

_“I dream of a small cottage in the country. Not like this; somewhere far away. Somewhere in the forest, or on some sprawling hillside."_

_"You want to live on a hill?"_

_"Maybe near the ocean. I dream that we are together. Safe. Free. Married, with children around us.”_

_“You do not wish to take your father’s place in the Senate?”_

_“Not if I had a choice.”_

_“And I am in your dream? Truly?”_

_“Of course. You are...in every dream.”_

_“Draco—”_

_“Now, tell me yours.”_

_“Well, I dream of my family. My mother and my father, sitting at the kitchen table. I dream that I will wake up and see my mother leaning over me and laughing that I am still asleep so late in the morning. I dream that my father will call me to the library to learn something new before lunchtime.”_

_“You miss them. Your dreams must hurt you terribly.”_

_“They are almost unbearable.”_

_“What makes them bearable, then?”_

_“You do."_

_“Me?”_

_“Because the other dream in my heart…It is the same as yours, Draco.”_

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

  
Theódorus was studying a parchment intently when Draco stormed into the library. Hermione hadn’t expected him, thinking he was to stay in the city until the end of the month. She barely had time to take a breath before he tugged her from her seat.

“Keep reading, Theó,” he instructed the little boy, who nodded. To Hermione, he said, “Come with me.”

Once they were in a hidden alcove, Hermione pulled away from Draco, disapprovingly. 

“Draco, he may just be a little boy,” she whispered, her voice harsh, “but he is smart. He will suspect something—“

“Listen to me. My father is dying.”

She froze, mouth falling open. “ _What_?”

“My father is dying,” Draco repeated, rubbing his thumbs against the delicate skin of Hermione’s wrists. “The healer has said that he will not last to see the _Cara Cognatio_ , Hermione.”

“What does this mean?”

“It means,” he stepped closer, his forehead dropping to rest against hers, “that I will free you when he is dead.”

“Draco, it is not possible—”

“I never said anything before now because I did not want to give you false hope, but he has been sick for a year. When he is gone, I will be the _paterfamilias_ of my house. I will legally be able to free you, and marry you.”

“The people of the city will talk.”

“No, not in public. They would never risk angering our family."

"Do you really think so?"

"Anyway, the Malfoi name is powerful enough to withstand gossip.”

“You would free me?” She tilted her head back to stare at him, incredulous. “Truly?”

“I have been working with Andromeda for months, now. She knows the law behind freeing a slave, and it is possible. Risky, but possible.”

Hermione remained silent for a moment, and then asked, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why not just keep me as a slave, and marry a noblewoman to further your family’s position? Astoria would be—”

Draco broke Hermione off with a firm kiss, his hand sliding up into her hair. When he pulled back, she watched him, carefully. 

“Astoria is a child,” he said, “and I am in love with you, not her. Even if we have to give up this,” he waved his hand in the air, “we can easily do so. We can go to our dream cottage, far away from here.”

“You would risk everything to free me?”

“Of course. If we have to leave, Theó can lead the family.”

“Theó is eleven years old, Draco.”

“And yet, he is smarter than my father.”

“Be serious, Draco. You truly want this?” Hermione asked. “Are you sure?”

“The minute he is dead, we shall be free of him.” Draco said, and his hopeful smile rallied her.

“And then?”

“We build our life. Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- I was planning to rename the Malfoys as the Malfides (mal-fee-days) but I thought it might be too weird to read, so I reluctantly went with the French "Malfoi". 
> 
> \- Romans considered Greek slaves to be well-educated, so they were often put to work in roles that best utilised their skills. One of these roles was tutoring the children.
> 
> \- I couldn't have a little boy named Teddy running around this story so his name is Theódoros here, Theó for short. It's Greek. It's fine.
> 
> \- The story jumps back and forth between in chronology, but the beginning to the end spans roughly six years.
> 
> Okay. That's all. Thank you for reading!


End file.
